Anima Magici
by Petaldancer
Summary: A young Harry Potter meets Tom Riddle, a wandering spirit with no memory of his past. Tom disappears, and as the boy-who-lives begins his journey into the wizarding world, he learns about Voldemort. Can he decide which side he fights for? Slash Warning
1. Prophecy of Snakes

**AN: Hey everyone! This is my second Harry Potter Story. This is going to be a long winded story, just warning you all. In no way will this be short.**

**I hope you all enjoy it!**

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><p><strong><span>Anima Magici<span>**

**Chapter One: A Prophecy of Snakes**

A young seven-year-old boy, skinny to the point of malnourished, panted in the hot glaring sun as he meticulously picked weeds from the Dursley's small green backyard. His hands were covered in scratches, dirt, and bits of blood where he had cut himself too deeply while handling the weeds with his slightly calloused hands. Harry Potter, the boy-who-labored was having a slightly average day. Slightly, meaning bad as usual. That morning, he had slept in late, waking an hour later than his usual 6:00am and therefore had failed to sweep the kitchen, vacuum the house, and cook breakfast for 3 hungry residents not including himself. Uncle Vernon had literally dragged him out of the cupboard under the stairs, slapped him, and then threatened him to finish his morning chores before lunch or else.

The day slaved on, and the hot sun poured down his fragile back. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand as he stood back, feeling sun burnt, and surveyed the weeding job he had done successfully.

His bright green eyes blinked as he saw black spots in his eyes, and sore, he picked up the weeding tools and walked into the house through the back door.

He desperately needed a shower. As he walked past his pudgy cousin, Dudley made it his purpose to push him into the wall, jostling his sore limbs. Harry hissed, and waited for his cousin to pass in order to not provoke him. He learned it was best to stay still and not react.

Dudley spat at him and then laughed, his belly jiggling, before walking past him.

Harry walked into the kitchen, spotting his horse-faced aunt.

"Aunt Petunia?" She turned to his small voice and scowled as she looked at his dirty appearance.

"Go take a shower, you stink like the sewer rat you are."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia, ma'am." He dragged himself up the stairs, and after taking his shower, he came back downstairs, dressed in his dirty, too big shirt.

He met his aunt along the way, "Go outside, brat, you still need to water the garden, not just weed it."

Harry held back a sigh, and trudged out of the back door and into the garden.

The garden was situated in the backyard, a healthy forest behind it.

The sun was a little lower in the sky now, turning the clouds orange.

As the young seven-year-old went to the pipes at the back of the house to gather the hose for watering, when he heard a strange noise.

A hiss.

"_He…_"

"_Hello?"_ the boy called out.

Harry froze. Another hiss caught his attention, and slowly, he turned his black mess of hair to the forest. Jeweled skin flashed in the peeps of sun that crept through the canopy of the forest and the snake's tongue flicked out, like to taste the fear radiating off of Harry.

Soon, quick, subtle rustles foiled through the leaves and greenery surrounding him and Harry could feel his breath catch. Dangerously patterned, precariously beautiful, emeralds and silky browns; the ground was moving in a writhing mass of hisses, snakes massed around Harry while he was frozen, petrified with fear.

A glittering, ebony Cobra slithered to his ankles, its companions quickly formed a circle around the seven-year-old

"_You... have you called usss? You are…a speaker of serpentss?"_

Harry jumped back, startled, his eyes wide when he realized that the snake was indeed talking to him. He could understand it.

"I...what?" The young boy took a deep breath and stared straight into the black Cobra's eyes, trying to lock away his fear.

"_I…" _and he blinked, noticing that he was not speaking English, but instead out came a hissing sound.

"_Haha, Yes, child you are a speaker of our language. Such power, in a package so small. I can smell it,"_ the Cobra's tongue flitted out, tasting the air.

"_Umn."_ Harry tried again, watching the snake warily, _"I am Harry. What is your name?"_

"_My name, hatchling, issss Nagini."_ She hissed, pleased by Harry's thoughtful introduction of himself.

"_Hello, why… do you know why I can talk to you? Why can I speak to snakes?"_

Harry could hear the nest of snakes that circled him hiss out laughter, some murmuring to the others, while a few chose to stare at Nagini, who obviously was some kind of leader in this mass of snakes.

"_Perhaps… No, you are not the Heir of Slytherin, only my master has that rightful title."_

"_Master?" _Harry inclined his head

"_Yes, my Master, Hatchling-" _She was cut off by a terrified, high-pitched, and quite girly scream coming from behind the boy.

"S-SNAKES! YOU-YOU-FREAK! I'M TELLING DADDY!" Young Dudley shrieked and began to back away as the circle of snakes turned their heads towards the intruder.

Just as the nest slithered their way towards Dudley, the said boy shrieked again and then promptly tripped over his own feet, falling on his pudgy self.

"_Hahaha,"_ the nest hissed out loud, frightening the blonde boy even more.

"FREAK! YOU BIG FREAK!" The plump boy got up and started to run towards the house, crying "DADDY!"

"_Sorry about that."_ Harry turned back to the piles of snakes that slithered back to his ankles, the Cobra in the lead.

"_Sssuch a polite child…much better than the fat worm that ran away."_

Nagini tasted the air;_ "I sense something great within you. A power. Those who speak our language have the ability to do great things, you will learn later on in your life, hatchling. You will be feared and respected."_

Nagini nodded, and brought her body up to his height so she could face him. Harry realized just then how massive the snake was. She hissed a command at the nest, and they straightened to meet Harry's eyesight as well.

"_Farewell, young one. I will meet you perhaps in the future."_

"_Wait! Please don't go!"_ Harry tried to hold onto Nagini, but paused before his hands could reach her. He didn't know if strangling the snake into some kind of hug was a good idea. He didn't know where to hold.

"_I must go Harry. I must continue to find my Master..."_ Something deep swirled within the boy. Roused from its sleep.

"_Please! Nagini!"_ the young green-eyed boy cried out desperately, frantically, unwilling to let his new friend leave.

Don't. Don't leave me! No!

Harry suddenly felt like he had reached a deep, frigid well and plunged himself in it. Clarity reached his mind, and yet he felt as if the world were hazy, a soft pressure in his consciousness gave comfort and almost rocked him gently to sleep.

The feeling froze and the clarity bursted outwards and out of his body.

The grass that surrounded his figure began to waver, like a ripple in a pond. Wind flew away from him and around him, caressing an invisible barrier that encompassed him. Suddenly the wind picked up, and raised itself, twisting towards the sky; tearing grass out of their roots and flinging them haphazardly in the torrent of wind that brushed his hair gently out of his eyes yet roared at intruding blades of grass.

Harry's eyes were vacant as the magic began to swerve about him.

Nagini stopped, her head frozen as she witnessed the sheer raw power that radiated off Harry. She flitted her tongue in the air, carefully tasting the magic that swirled dangerously around the strange seven-year old.

It tasted sweet, like fresh air and lavender. It tasted dangerous, like the atmosphere right before a tornado hit the earth. It tasted pure; neither light nor dark. It tasted like what Magic truly used to be.

What her ancestors had told her about when she was with her nest as a hatchling. The _Anima_. A presence that was sleeping inside Nagini's subconscious made itself known—an ancient instinct that several generations before her had called upon.

She had found the young Master of _Anima_: the Master of Spirits.

Immediately, the nest twirled their heads and bowed, realizing the presence that was before them. All creatures of the forest lowered their heads as Harry's magic began to descend back into his body. Nagini prepared herself to enter the boy's mind.

She would lock his true magic until it was time.

Young Harry woke to find himself lying in a soft bed of leaves. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of the forest, and Harry found himself completely comfortable for the first time.

Uncaring, warm, and most of all, it felt safe. He felt for his glasses to his side when he realized that his vision was hazy, but was met with a hiss instead. Harry paused and sleepily turned his messy head of hair left and was greeted by a very large, black cobra. Harry blinked. Once. Twice.

"_Good Morning Harry"_ Nagini hissed.

Blink. Thrice.

"_Morn'in…Nagini."_ Harry slowly began to comprehend that a large nest of sleeping snakes surrounded him. He could hear their soft sibilant snores and he blinked again; confused. How did he get here? When did he fall asleep? What-

Dudley!

Harry immediately sat up, disturbing some of the serpents that were lounging on his chest. They hissed in protest and Harry murmured an absent apology.

Nagini looked amused. Dudley found him talking to snakes yesterday. He was going to be killed if he ever found his way back to the Dursleys. Young Harry ran a hand through his already messy jet hair.

He started to tangle his hair and pull it furiously in panic but Nagini wrapped her tail around his wrist and hissed, _"Easy Hatchling. Calm down."_ Oh she sounded amused all right.

"_The disgusting ball of fat and his parents have not awaken yet. They do not know of your absence." _Harry plopped back down onto the scented pile of leaves.

A couple more reptiles protested and Harry muttered another absent apology. He took a look around him, and realized that although the sun had filtered through the trees and hit his face, he was looking at almost a glass like ceiling, although it was clear that the dirt mound over his head was made from compost. It was like he was in a den, but the ceiling was magically transparent.

Harry sat up to get a better look at it-but his head met the ceiling with a resounding smack. The reptiles about him jolted at the sound and found him nursing his head while Nagini laughed at him.

"_That wasn't funny!"_ Young Harry hissed at Nagini, who was still writhing on the floor from laughter. Her laughs sounded like a mix between human speech and hisses.

"_Hatchling, it most definitely was."_ The cobra finally began to calm down, settling contently on Harry's lap. The glasses wearing youth raised his head a little more carefully, wondering where they were.

"_You are in my den, Harry." _

"_Your den…? Oh! Your home!"_

"_Yesss, one of them._" Harry looked about them once more, noticing the sparkle of morning dew on the transparent ceiling.

"_Cool."_ Nagini looked pleased at the compliment. But straightened when she remembered her duty. The other serpents peered at their leader, waiting for her to address the young master.

"_Harry…Come here child, I must tell you something very important."_ Harry scooted closer to her, curious.

"_Hatchling, there is a very powerful magic residing in you. Magic called The Anima. It is the true nature of magic…. _

Once, a long time ago, a little after the earth and humans were born, there lived a man who lived in a humble village that surrounded a large lake. He had a special gift, one that the other villagers were afraid of because humans naturally are afraid of what they do not understand. This man could control the elements, water, fire, earth, and air. He could conjure items out of thin air, and move them about as he wished. He could fly without wings and dive into the lake without the need for air. He could do many things. But the one gift that the villagers were scared of most, was his ability to communicate to animals. He knew the languages of all creatures and often spent time just conversing with them. But the villagers saw it as a sign that one day, the man would lead the animals to feed upon the villagers' children. They shunned him as a beast.

One would wonder why this great man did not just persuade them using his charismatic charms and beautiful magic to make friends with the villagers. One would wonder why this great man never travelled outside of his village. He knew, by some unspeakable force, that he could never leave the village nor persuade the people using magic. Even as a small boy, he knew that if he were to go outside the village or persuade the people, the entire village would crash into flames, and his mother, the only one left of his family, along with all the citizens would be tortured to death by an unseen force. So you see, this man could never abandon his village, for his heart was too strong.

After falling in love with another villager, he had two children: A boy and a girl. The boy was a fantastic bowman. He could bend the trees to his will, he could dive into water without air like his father, he could control the earth and water to do his bidding, and he could also speak with the animals that wandered through the village. The boy was a heroic character, strong and proud like his father, he often saved villagers from danger, yet he was always scolded or beaten upon saving them.

The girl, on the other hand, was quiet. She could summon the light from the sun, cast fire amongst the frozen dunes her brother created, she could fly without wings like her father, she was a master swordsman, and could also speak with animals. While the boy was a heroic character, his sister was never involved in his business. She stayed clear of the villagers, silently protected them, and darted amongst them in plain daylight, like she was invisible.

A day came that an oracle had traveled to their village. She witnessed the heirs of the man with great power. She witnessed their fates as well. She warned the great man of his children.

The Daughter is deceitful

The Son is regretful

Both will turn on their birthplace

And cause fire to their world

Separate at birth, the Master of Anima

He gave to his children

The light and the dark

The silence and the sorrow

Hand in Hand. They will cause

Destruction to their world.

The Masters of Anima.

The dragons will clash.

The man will suffer.

The serpents will serve him.

Because they are his gift

The last of the Anima

Will spread his power.

The world will crumble

Lest he kill his own

Beware the darkness

Beware the light

Before him is clarity

The pure and resolute

He must find the one

Who balances his clarity

With haziness and mystery.

He is left with but a gift

Until the next master arises.

The man was greatly distraught. He quickly told the oracle to get out of the village, but she refused, asking to see his children once more. Angry, the father used his magic to push her out of the door and was thrown out of the village. By then, his son and daughter had returned from catching the family's dinner in the lake. They saw their father using his magic to push out the old oracle and immediately they were curious. They had never seen their father use magic on any of the villagers before. Their mother was placing dishes on the table, and the siblings glanced at each other, wondering.

The 17-year-old boy, adventurous, snuck out during the day a few days later, in search for the old woman that their father had tossed out. He tossed his long head of jet-black hair over his shoulder and strode through the village quietly. The rest of the village had gone to their daily hunting, and their father and mother were taking a nap in their house. His sister had disappeared again, but he was not worried.

The animals that he passed bowed to him in silent greeting. His favorite animal, a snake he had nursed back to health when he was just 5, slithered onto his shoulders and wrapped itself loosely around his neck. Snickering, the young man asked the earth if the old oracle was anywhere. The dirt around him suddenly shifted, rising from the ground and pointing itself in the direction of the oracle. She had not left the outskirts of the village. As he padded by, he felt the moisture in the air slowly drying out, but the young man paid no attention to it, for the shift of moisture in the air was always occurring. He summoned his shadow, and raised it from the ground, walking with it hand in hand as he walked towards the oracle. His shadow could find the oracle much quicker than he could. He let the shadow go, and it melted to the ground, splitting itself into there sections. But before he could command the shadow to move, he heard an ear-splitting scream coming from the boundary of the village. Recognizing his sister, he snapped back his shadow and sped towards the boundaries of the village.

His sister was lying in a pool of her own blood, her long coal hair splayed across her back, her own sword was thrust into her chest, pinning her to the ground. The brother looked on, as she coughed, trying to speak. He shakily placed his hands on her sword, and with tears in his eyes; he drew the sword out of her flesh. A wet, sickening slick sound sounded in the air, and his sister cried out again. He muttered a quick healing spell, and waved his hand over the blood around her and on her clothes, instantly the blood was banished. His sister's breathing was slowing to deep breaths, and she tore her teary eyes to her brother.

Whispering, "Mother. Mother was taken out of the village." The look in her eyes was odd. The boy thought. It looked, deranged, twisted.

She sneered.

The sunlight split when it came to the sister, it bent and swirled about her, and as it picked her up, her eyes went blank. Her black hair flowed about her like twisting snakes. The sunlight poured onto her skin, and she sparkled, her eyes opening again. The Brother was horrified. Gone were the sweet almost frigid blue eyes she had inherited, and in place was ruby red. Blood red. She cackled, and the sunlight grew intense, it started to boil his skin. The brother called upon his shadows again, but before he could block himself, his sister threw him out of the boundaries of the village. He landed on a disillusioned carcass, and hesitantly, removed the charm. His dead mother's head was staring at him, accusingly. Those blue eyes stared at him, piercing. You. You did this. You let your sister kill me. Her body was mutilated beyond repair. The brother scrambled backwards, and only then did he notice that his sister had floated towards him, sobbing.

"Merlin! Merlin please help me!" Her body seemed to be twisting itself inwards.

"Help me fight this evil being brother! It's taken over my body!" Merlin watched her, confused. Did she kill their mother? Was it some evil force she was battling with? He shook his head, clearing his mind and raising the shadows to smother the light. He didn't know who to trust anymore.

The sister, finally on the ground, fell to her knees and shook.

"Ariana?" He sat next to her, and when she looked up he jumped away. The sneer that was on her face before had even more disturbing features to it. She grinned maniacally, cackling, her body shaking from laughter.

"It's your fault Merlin. Your fault Mother's dead!" She laughed at the sky. Her eyes were unfocused.

"The village is gone now!" and she celebrated, her blood-colored eyes rolling towards him like a deranged doll.

"You'll be gone too."

And Merlin ran back to the village, back over the border that he realized he had been thrown over. He scrambled back, tears flooding from his eyes. The ground underneath him crackled and the water that formed from the atmosphere circled him. His magic twisting out of his control. He saw his father, hands on the ground and kneeling before the roaring flames that encompassed the village. The great man sobbed as he heard the villagers screaming from unspeakable torture. He could hear their bones snapping, limbs being torn apart one by one. He could hear the children being raped and pinned to the walls like paper dolls. The great man turned to his son, who was curled on the dirt road, the boy's heart sinking with the greatest regret.

His daughter is deceitful.

His son is regretful.

Harry shivered as Nagini told the story to him. The snakes around him provided a slithery comfort. The boy lay down in the light filled den and was rubbing his arms, trying to still the discomfort that he felt distorting his mind like a writhing creature. Nagini paused in the story to look at the young one. He was curled up in the nest of snakes and she slithered to him, black eyes shining, and nudged his cheek with her nose. She sighed with a hiss, and gently prodded his cheek again.

"_Dear Harry. My dear little hatchling. Perhaps I shall tell you the rest of this story when you have grown and suffered your own path."_ Harry lifted his head in shock.

"_Wh-what? No! Continue! I can handle it…"_ the boy tried to scramble for an excuse so he could hear the rest of the story.

"_No child. I shall not tell you more. In fact, I must continue my journey to find my master's soul. I am part of him, yet for some reason, I cannot feel him. I know he is alive. He must be."_ She slithered to his lap.

"_Besides, Harry, your relatives will wake very very soon. You must return to them."_

"_I don't want to go back! Please, you don't know what they do… they will kill me!" _ Harry begged his friend.

"_Harry, I made sure that they do not remember our encounter. I made sure that, by the time you enter that house, you will also forget about me. About my nest. And the story. "_ Nagini pressed her nose against Harry's cheek again. She was sad that she had to lock away his memories about their encounter, but Harry was too young to control the _Anima_. He had to be of age and so she locked away the majority of his magic as well, there would be a time where he would be strong enough to unlock it. Plus she really had to find her master.

"_Tom… My hatchling and my master… if you ever meet him…"_ The cobra hesitated, "_**When**__ you meet him. You will be powerful together. You will be able to control everything… you will understand the greatness you were born into Harry."_ And with a pulse of parselmagic, she knocked him out and ordered the nest to take him back to his home.

Nagini lifted her head to the sky.

"_Tom…Where are you?"_

_**Time Skip: Two Years Later…**_

The wispy figure floated about the dark forest. His cloak dissolved into mist, much like a dementor's robes would. But he was no dementor. He had no body; he was a corporeal soul that flitted about in a torn existence between life and death. Every night, this flitting shadow would travel through the forest, lost and confused. He could not remember who he was, or what he was. Yet all he had was knowledge, his name, and every spell, every curse, every memory of how to use magic. He was left with the unmanageable fear… of death.

The soul, but not yet ghost, as something tied him to the world of the living, sighed. He did not count, but it had seemed to be at least eight years since he found himself a transparent body on this earth.

The soul sighed again. No memory of his former self, he glanced at his long, pale fingers. Brushing the wavy black hair from his face and away from his piercing obsidian eyes that would sometimes flash a deep, frigid blue. He had handsome features, pale, almost angelic. He seemed to be around the age of his early thirties, yet in actuality, he was 62. The obvious signs that he was a wizard. A powerful one, if his extremely slow aging proved anything. Strong, powerful wizards could live for 90 years and still look like they were in their late thirties. By then, age did not matter as much as magic did.

Despite his floating self, the robes he wore still outlined his muscular physique, trained obviously through battle and dueling. He trekked onwards, perhaps to find something other than animals to possess or serpents to talk to. It seemed that humans could not see him, and the soul sighed once more, watching no cloud come from his mouth despite the frigid air. He felt emptiness, not loneliness per say, but an emptiness when he did not know who he was. He felt like he was missing a vital part of his soul. Much of his soul actually.

The beautiful spirit wandered amongst the trees, eventually leading out into the moonlight and on the edges of the forest he passed through. He spotted a dingy little house on the corner of the suburban neighborhood. A crooked sign that stated, "Privet Drive" creaked in the wind that flew through his form. A couple of leaves passed through him as well as the billowing figure crossed the grass, over to the garden the house sported. He reached down to try to touch the petunias that were standing in ground when he felt a jerk coming from his heart. A calling, a painful tug and longing like he had never felt before. He cried out a bit, falling to his knees and placing one hand over his tugging heart.

Suddenly hearing a gasp, he turned his pale face towards the sidewalk.

A young boy with round glasses, black tousled hair, and the most striking green eyes were staring straight at him.

It couldn't be. There was no way that this young boy, who looked merely nine, could spot him. Right?

The black mop of hair tilted its head, his mouth still agape. He could see through the man standing in their garden! And he looked just about as shocked as the young boy was. Harry, slowly closing his jaw, padded carefully towards the "ghost" as he dubbed it.

The man stared at the boy with curiosity. Someone could finally see him? The pull he felt. Could it have come from the boy?

"Um," the boy started and the man snapped his attention back to the young figure that was shuffling closer to him. Those green eyes staring at him warily.

There was only silence as the two met each other.

The handsome spirit felt another tug coming from the boy, something unexplainable. Like he had found some piece of his soul that he had been missing for eight years.

"Um," the boy tried again once he got closer. "Who… Who are you?"

The figure blinked at the boy, and in a quiet voice, for he had not spoken in his own human language for a long time:

"I am Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle."

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter so far! <strong>

**In other news, I am in desperate need of a beta reader! If anyone wants to volunteer, send me a message or express your interest in a review. **

**Yes, the legend is very long winded, but don't worry, you won't encounter it for a little while again. **

**Next: Tom and Harry converse! **

**Remember to review!**

**-Petaldancer**


	2. Swish and Flick

**Hello Everyone! I'm so sorry for the long gap between this chapter and the previous one. I sprained most of my foot so I had to hobble around, plus APs and such... sheesh. Either way, I'm back! I promise there won't be any extremely long hiatuses for a while!**

**Enjoy!**

**Swish and Flick**

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><p>"<em>I am Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle."<em>

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><p>Harry shifted his dirty bare feet, gazing through him curiously.<p>

"Are you… a ghost?" He whispered.

Tom looked at his transparent hands and glanced back at the child, "I do not know. I do not think I am ghost." His voice was still hoarse from lack of use, coming out in a mere whisper. He wondered if this was a normal starter for conversations… if only he remembered.

Harry perked up, wondering why Tom _wouldn't_ be a ghost.

"But you're see-through," he pointed out, his eyes wide, his usual submissive demeanor vanishing. Tom's lips curved upwards a bit.

"Indeed."

"So then what are you?"

"I am not sure, I do not know who I am." Tom wasn't sure why he was telling this little boy concepts he most likely wouldn't understand. The pull in his heart was humming comfortingly.

"So you lost your memories." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Indeed."

"Do you know how long you've been like this?"

"I would assume eight years."

"How old are you? Why are you wearing funny clothes?"  
>The innocent question sent the humming in his chest to jerk painfully.<p>

The spirit's eyes widened to the pain and then narrowed, the next statement coming out in a whispered snarl, "I do not have to answer you, boy." The dark wavy locks shadowing around his aristocratic face as he towered over Harry.

Harry subtly flinched at "boy," but that was enough for the observant spirit to notice. A twisted smile began to form on Tom's face.

"I—I'm sorry," the nine-year old stuttered, falling back as he saw the man before him start to advance towards him with a smirk.

"Boy," the name rolled off Tom's tongue experimentally, and he observed Harry's reactions. He saw him stiffen.

"Boy, come here." Harry scooted further away. Tom felt something stir inside of him, his vision began to fog.

The air grew colder.

Wide eyes staring at him. No one called him Boy except Uncle Vernon, and Vernon was always giving him lashings for no reason whenever he called that despicable name.

Tom reached his transparent hand out to Harry. His eyes flashed red for a moment.

"Boy."

The child shivered, suddenly feeling very afraid.

His breath came out in clouds as the temperature continued to drop.

The man took a step forward, his smirk turning into a sneer, Harry stumbled back and tripped. He could feel something inside of him stir. Something rush outside of him, snapping at the glowing eyes of the ghost.

Tom jerked. _What—?_

Suddenly, his hand dropped to his side. The menacing look on his face was wiped away with a sheet of sheer confusion.

The spirit stared at the boy, feeling a vibrating fear emitting from the child.

_What in Merlin's name was that?_

He focused back onto the figure in the grass, and after a couple moments he heard a small murmur.

"Harry." The youth corrected him as quietly as he could.

An instinctive fear washed over him as he waited for the stranger to beat him. Harry shied away when he saw Tom snap his eyes into his at Harry's assertion. He lowered his own to the wet grass. Swallowing audibly.

Tom's features shifted slightly, from confusion to something softer. He kneeled down and pushed his hand closer to Harry, making a beckoning motion, like coaxing a small animal.

"Harry." And the addressed boy looked up, a bit shocked. The stranger hadn't run away! But… would he be beaten instead?

Harry didn't know if he could trust Tom.

"Harry." Tom's voice a bit louder than the hoarse whisper he had been talking in. Harry felt a dull nudge in his mind, subtle but persistent. He realized he was locking eyes with the spirit, the deep blue in Tom's eyes seemed… hollow.

There was that subtle nudge in his brain again and it felt more foreign by the second. Harry couldn't look away, and he lost himself in the emptiness of Tom's eyes.

The nudge became a poke, and then a tender pull until Harry felt a rising annoyance and swatted away the foreign prodding in his mind.

Tom pulled back, his mouth slightly open in shock.

"You…You fought it?" Tom muttered. Harry tilted his head and tried to decipher what the strange spirit was saying.

"Fought what?" The spirit did nothing but shake his head slightly. Warily eyeing the boy that shuffled his feet nervously. He seemed afraid of some kind of punishment.

Tom ran a transparent hand through his transparent black locks, messing up his usually tame hair.

The human gesture and the sigh that escaped the spirit's lips relaxed Harry a little bit. Perhaps the soul wouldn't punish him like Uncle Vernon usually did.

Before he could say anything, however, he heard the telltale sound of the front door opening.

"Freak?" the grating voice of his horse-faced aunt sounded in the cold air.

Harry turned back to the ghost, still curious about what had happened, but having no time, he whispered to the spirit.

"Umn, I have to go!" He raced back to the back door and entered as quietly as he could; The hinges of the door giving a little squeak as he closed it behind him.

Tom was left standing in the lawn, wondering.

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><p>It was dark. The nightlights in the hallway gave little light through the slot on the door of his room. Harry stood behind that door, contemplating.<p>

Maybe he could go outside again tonight? It had been a couple of days since his last excursion into the wilderness of the night. Perhaps he would meet that ghost, despite how intimidating he was.

He still remembered the way the ghost had looked so… lost. Lonely? His ruffled black hair falling into a mess around his sculpted face. The obviously pale (despite transparent) skin and lips stretched to a firm line.

But his eyes, his eyes were as if… there was nothing in them.

Harry had to find out.

The curious child turned the knob to his door, holding his breath.

_Please, please be unlocked!_

The doorknob completed a full revolution with no jerk of the lock to stop him. He exhaled in relief.

_Phew._

He crept out the back door, smelling the cool fresh air and enjoying the wet grass beneath his bare feet.

"Mmn," Harry closed his eyes and smiled. It was so rare to have a moment of peace these days. He sighed contently and let out a small laugh, twirling a bit in the grass. Oh how he loved fresh air.

He plopped onto the grass and laid down, enjoying the sight of the moon gazing over houses. He had to enjoy as much freedom as he could while it lasted, really.

A levitating figure viewed the boy laughing and lying on the grass. He noted Harry's content sigh and the smile that lingered on his face, his unruly hair lying soft on the grass, and surprisingly refreshing…something about him. A look that seemed too relieved to be on a child so young. Why was he out so late in the first place? Do his parents not care about him?

Tom placed a hand to chest, surprised by a sudden pang of disgust at the mention of parents. Remorse for something he wasn't quite sure why.

No matter, he brushed the pain aside, he had to talk to this child, he still felt that calling, that wonderful warmth that gave him feeling. Emotion?

But how to approach him? What would one normally do?

Tom couldn't remember.

So he resolutely walked towards the child laying on the grass, cleared his throat quietly to get Harry's attention, and forced, as cheerfully as he could, a hello.

Harry's eyes snapped open to meet the spirit's. Blinking, and then realizing he was staring through his new found ghost, he sat up with a hello.

"I…" the spirit paused, trying to grasp what to say next, "Hello...Harry"

Blink. "Hello."

"Umn, Hello"

"Hello Sir."

"Hel—"Tom mentally smacked himself for sounding like some kind of broken doll.

He took a deep breath, and forced his pretend smile (that was more of a baring of teeth than anything) to relax into his normal cold mask.

He sighed, and started over.

"May I sit here?" Harry gave a nod and Tom sighed again as he sat _through_ the grass.

"Harry," Tom started, his tone hesitant yet soft, "How old are you? Where are we?"

"I'm nine Mr. Riddle, sir." Tom brushed away the boy's attached "sir" at the end, thinking nothing of it.

"And we're in Little Whinging, Private Drive…sir"

"Private drive?" Tom spotted the rusty old sign at the end of the sidewalk.

Harry did nothing but nod.

"And where are your parents?" Harry stiffened. Tom took notice.

"They're dead." He whispered, his eyes lowered to the ground.

There was silence in the air and Harry had thought that Tom had left until he heard a quiet shuffling of the stranger's odd clothing. He heard a clearing of throat once again and felt a strange tingle near his arm. He looked up to see Tom leaning close to him.

"I'm sorry." Tom whispered back, looking into those bright green eyes.

Harry shook his head, "It's okay. I don't remember them. They died when I was little, in a car accident." He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the little tingles in his arm.

Tom said nothing, but felt a sudden urge to touch him comfortingly.

So he did.

A hand swooped down and lifted to caress Harry's cheek.

It connected.

Harry's eyes widened and Tom jumped back in shock.

It… connected? Tom stared at his hand. No, still transparent.

"Mr. Riddle?" Harry's eyes still large.

"Strange," the beautiful soul breathed, "that has never happened before."

"So… that doesn't happen at all?"

"Does it _look_ like it happens a lot?" Tom questioned, snapping.

"Sorry sir."

There was a long pause.

"Why did this happen?" Tom demanded in a quiet voice, staring down at the boy who had started to quiver, his eyes still large. He looked afraid.

"I'm sorry sir! I… "

"This is extremely curious, what did you do?"

"I…strange things happen to me—not that I meant it! I—I'm a freak." He stuttered out as Tom towered over him.

The boy was short, now that Tom noticed, and malnourished. He looked dirty and very pale, like he hadn't been in the sun often. The boy shook, tears leaking out of the nine-year-olds eyes. He continued rambling on.

"I'm a huge freak! I can move things without touching them. I can control animals without training them. I can speak to snakes; they find me, whisper things. Uncle Vernon says he has to punish me because what I do is unnatural. I shouldn't be born, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" He felt himself being picked up.

Tingling turned into warmth, and he cried into the transparent soul's clothing, not noticing the teardrops stained the spirit's robes instead of falling through them. Long, pale fingers ran through his tousled black hair. Tom stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do besides run his fingers through the boy's hair and rock him gently as the green-eyed boy sobbed into his robes.

He processed the information the boy had given him. Speaking to snakes? Controlling animals? Tom could do that as well… did this mean they were alike some how? Perhaps they were connected…with magic?

The pale spirit had no true understand of what magic was. All he knew was that there was magic and he could use it. He could list off familiar words from the top of his head that he had no concept of and move that strange stick he had in his pocket about to form the movements. But the last time he tried something called _Wingardium Leviosa_, the rabbit he had come across began floating upwards and then Tom had blacked out from exhaustion. He sighed once again, and as he rocked the young boy who, if seen by anyone else at this moment would appear to be levitating off the ground by some unseen force, his pale fingers moved from Harry's hair to rub circles on the youngster's back.

"_Shhh,_" Tom whispered a bit in parseltongue, hoping that the child wouldn't be frightened by the serpent's language. Harry just snuggled into his robes even further, wiping his eyes on the transparent cloth.

"Harry, the man you are living with… Uncle Vernon? Does he punish you often?" Tom petted the youth's messy hair, and Harry sniffed.

"Yeah…"

"What does he do?"

Harry bit his lip, averting his eyes, "I can't tell you. He told me I couldn't tell anyone."

Tom nodded, a solemn look on his face when inside he reared back in disgust. This Vernon was a monster for treating such an innocent child this way.

Harry looked at Tom, the spirit's face seemed to morph from cold to pensive, a sharp biting look was in his eyes though. Harry scooted back a bit and opened his mouth to say something.

"BOY? Where is that disgusting brat?" Harry's head whipped towards the house so fast Tom absentmindedly wondered if he would get whiplash. Quickly, the boy struggled from Tom's robed arms and dropped to the grass in haste.

"I have to go!" He exclaimed in a whispering tone to the confused soul and then ran off to the back of the house to enter the back door instead of the door where his Uncle was waddling onto the front porch. The fat, sweaty man stared straight through Tom, his sneer as disgusting as he was pitiful.

If looks could kill, Tom thought while he glared holes through the lesser man:

Then he would die in an instant

"Shhh! Quiet!"

"Harry, it's not like anyone could hear me anyway."

"Oh yeah," The nine-year old scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"If anything, shouldn't you be in that wretched house right now?"

"Aunt Petunia has guests, so Uncle Vernon told me to stay outside and out of sight."

"Hmn," Tom responded in Riddle like fashion. His marble face roamed across the scrawny lawn of the Dursley's. He had been here for a month, keeping himself entertained by this young boy.

"Tom? Tom did you hear what I said?" The soul cocked his head to one side to show that he was listening.

"I was wondering, have you figured out who you were in the past yet?"

Tom shook his head.

"Oh…" Green eyes casted downwards, "I'm sorry."

Tom sighed.

"What are you sorry for Harry?" His voice paternal, soothing, and melodic. Harry colored a bit before peeking a quick glance at Tom.

"I want you to get better." The spirit allowed his mouth to quirk in a small awkward smile, rarely did he allow Harry the sight of his smile. Although he didn't know why, he just felt uncomfortable with any emotion besides anger and disgust. He patted the boy's head, already used to the warm tingling sensation he got from touching Harry.

"I hope that I can remember my past as well. But there is no need to rush. I am sure it will come to me eventually." The bare snippets that Tom could even remember were something about a green flash, a beautiful black cobra, and pain, so much pain.

The small boy fought the urge to hug his friendly resident ghost, but decided against it. Tom was not a touchy feely sort of person.

"Tom?"

"Hmn?"

"I… I wish you could come inside the house with me. It would make Dudley's bullying a lot easier."

Tom sighed. He'd been doing that a lot the past month.

"You know I cannot enter Harry, although I am still curious as to why."

When the handsome spirit had tried to enter, he suddenly felt agonizing pain ripping him apart, his flesh felt like it was dissolving, which seemed impossible since he didn't have real flesh in the first place. He was then thrown back and with a scream, blacked out, half of his body through the pavement. Harry had of course, cried Tom's name and rushed back to his friend, although Aunt Petunia scowled at his "insanity" and his "imaginary friend."

Later that night, Harry had been beaten by Uncle Vernon, called an insane freak who drew too much unwanted attention to their family, and threatened that if he ever mentioned "Tom" again, there would be worse consequences than a couple lashes with a belt.

Sometime during the stray hours of the morning, Harry had snuck out of his closet since Vernon had forgotten to lock the cupboard and curled up in the lawn behind the house, nursing his burning back with the cool wind.

Tom had found him in that fetal position and immediately began healing him with spells that popped into his mind…

"Tom?" and the spirit realized he had been staring off into space for an awkward amount of time. He shook his head to clear it.

"Sorry," the apology still felt a bit foreign on his tongue, although he wasn't sure why. He tread through the grass as Harry jogged a bit to keep with his long strides.

"What should we do today?" Tom "hmned," which Harry interpreted as an "I don't care."

Even though it was quite dark out and Harry wasn't supposed to be making any noise, he wanted to play with Tom anyways. Harry was conversing with another snake that had complimented the wonderful scent of the flowers he had planted, while Tom stood by and watched silently as always, fascinated by the excited expressions that lit the boy's entire face like the sun.

The spirit, in an uncharacteristic motion of laziness, flicked a hand to the boy's hair and allowed his rain-scented wave of magic pass from his fingers to make waves in Harry's jet-black hair. Harry gave a half-shout, and turning from the snake to Tom gave a look of horror; placing his hands in his locks to keep them from waving about wildly.

"Tom!" The spirit smirked at him. His magic was coming much more easily now, although he couldn't understand why it hadn't been so easy before when he had been wandering around for years. Perhaps it was the boy? He looked around him to see if anyone was looking, and opened the well to his magic wider. Harry gave a half-yell, muffling himself with his hands, as he began to levitate off the ground. The snake he was talking to was hissing in pleasure to the smell of magic in the air.

"Tom, put me down!" He whispered loudly. The spirit smirked at him, almost evilly, and then dropped him on the soft grass. Harry landed with an "oof!" and rubbed his abused behind.

"That's no fair Tom. I wish I could do such cool magic like you." Tom had attempted to teach him basic spells, but the boy had difficulty with them. It was like he barely had any magic at all, which was confusing since he seemed to speak to animals just fine and he once magic-ed himself onto the roof when his cousin was trying to beat him. Which reminded him, Harry's birthday was tomorrow _or today… soon enough_.

Tom's fingers trailed over Harry's gift, he had decided it was high time he gave the gift to him; it wasn't like he needed it anyways. He flicked a finger and the tempus charm stated it was 12:00am. The child was still sitting on the floor, watching with amazement at the ease which Tom could perform magic with a simple movement of his hands. The spirit smiled despite himself and kneeled down to the boy.

"Happy Birthday Harry," The boy's face lit up, "I know that you may think you don't have magic, but trust me young one, you do." He knew it; he could feel it curled, sleeping inside the boy. "Even though it seems that you can't do any of the spells I've tried to teach you, it may be because you do not have a proper conductor." The boy nodded slowly, not knowing where this was going. "So…" The spirit paused, "I have decided to give this to you, since I do not seem to need it anyways."

Tom pulled out his wand, seemingly transparent.

"Happy Birthday," Tom shoved his wand towards the boy who looked at it in confusion. Awkwardly, the boy looked at Tom, then back at the wand… then back at Tom.

"Um-"

"What?" The spirit snapped, feeling a blush creeping towards his cheeks.

"Tom. It's see-through, and it's not real and is the wand a ghost or something too?" The boy eyed the wand, not knowing how he should take something that couldn't be grasped.

"Look Harry, this wand is a part of me right?" The boy looked confused but nodded anyways.

"You can touch me, so that means you can take the wand too."

"But- how would I use it? "

"I'd assume you would flick it with the motions I showed you, and you would do spells."

"But how does that work?"

"Just take it Harry!" Tom snapped, irritated beyond his usual demeanor, peeved that Harry wasn't accepting the wand immediately.

Harry immediately obeyed and touched his gift. His eyes widened when he held it; feeling no weight in his hands and a pleasant humming coming from the wand. _What?_

"What?" Harry voiced aloud.

"I told you it would work out Harry. Here, try doing the Levitating spell I showed to you… Now hold it this way, swish and flick." Tom urged, a satisfied smile lighting his face as he saw the boy furrowing his brows in concentration.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!"_ the snake who had been watching began to wobble upwards, hissing at the boy to put it down. The boy's mouth split into the widest grin he had ever had the pleasure of seeing, and waved his wand to the left and right, levitating the snake up and about—to it's displeasure.

"Tom! Tom look!" His jet-black hair tousling as he ran about with the snake bouncing in the air. Tom chuckled as the boy cheered quietly.

His chuckle turned into a rare laugh when the serpent began yelling obscenities at Harry.

"Congratulations Harry, I knew I was right." Tom grinned, satisfied that Harry enjoyed his gift so much and that he could finally do a bit of magic.

"Thank you Tom! Thank you! Thank you!" Harry flung the snake back into the grass and ran to the spirit to try and tackle him to the ground in a hug. But with his meager weight, all he could do was knock the wind out of Tom.

"Oof!" Tom smiled gently—albeit winded—at the boy who was hugging him with all his might.

"…fwank…oo…" he muffled out from Tom's robes.

"You're welcome Harry." The spirit fondly patted the boy's back. He looked at his previously owned wand; it was still transparent, 13 inches he could guess. It seemed to love Harry though, it echoed to his magic.

"Remember to take care of it Harry, and try not to lose it. It is still transparent to others so if you lose it you can't ask other people to help you find it." He warned Harry.

"Okay."

"And… try to keep this gift a secret from others."

"Okay, of course!" Harry nodded vigorously.

"Alright-" He heard laughing from inside the house and footsteps reaching the front door.

"Harry, the guests are leaving, you must get to bed. Here, hide your wand."

The boy hid the wand under his shirt, making sure that the bump was invisible.

"Good Night Harry, and Happy Birthday."

"Thank you Tom." Harry hugged Tom once more and then ran as quietly as he could to the house, the spirit watching him leave.

* * *

><p>"What are you FREAKS doing here?" Harry roused from the cot in the cupboard, rubbing his eyes.<p>

"Get OUT!" He could hear the ugly sputtering of Uncle Vernon, his pudgy self backed into a wall with a loud _thump_.

"We are here representing the Ministry of Magic, our orders are to investigate a burst of underage magic committed somewhere close to this vicinity." A calm, stern voice replied.

"Now listen here-"

Harry could hear his Aunt rush in from upstairs, the dust from under the stairs watering his eyes.

"VERNON!"

"Mummy?"

"Get out of my house you FREAKS! I'll call the authorities and-!"

"Sir, we are the authorities-"

"Like hell you are!"

"We would just like to investigate your home-!"

"NO!" Harry heard the crash of a vase hitting a wall. He heard some strange word, which sounded vaguely like "Merlin."

There was a scuffle.

A loud bang. It sounded like a gunshot.

"VERNON! STOP!"

"Stop this at once, by order of the Ministry of Mag-"

"Don't you dare say that word in this house!"

"Merlin—!"

"Mummy!"

Another gunshot was heard.

"NOW GET OU-"

"_Stupefy!"_

All was silent.

* * *

><p>Kingsley Shackelbolt was not having a particularly good day. It had started in the morning when he had overslept. A rarity for him, since he almost always woke before his tempus charm went off. In fact, he had struggled into his robes and had immediately apparated to an apparation-safe zone near the ministry; but had forgotten his briefcase that contained all of the paperwork he had spent last night going over. He apparated back into his home and through the strong wards around his house, grabbed his briefcase, and then apparated back to the ministry. It turned out that while he was gone, the line of ministry workers that stood for the pheletone booth, or whatever the muggle contraption was called, had gotten longer. He stood behind a chattering worker in front of him, trying to keep his exasperation from showing.<p>

"Yeah, I was a top student when I was at Hogwarts; I was in Gryffindor and everything! Dumbledore even favored me, asked me to meet him a couple times in his office and offered me some of his lemon drops. Ha! It was then, of course, no surprise that I would pass the Auror's Exam." He continued to chatter on, the woman in front of him trying her best to ignore the man.

"New recruits," Kingsley muttered to himself, and then with a sigh, placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

The man stopped mid-sentence and turned around to spot Kingsley staring at him menacingly.

"S-Sir! Senior Auror Shacklebolt Sir!" He gave a stumbling salute, his face pale.

"Auror Ramsey," he gave a nod, "we are still in a public, muggle area. Please keep that in mind." Ramsey nodded furiously, his floppy chestnut hair getting in his eyes.

"Yes sir! Sorry sir!" He stuttered as he walked forward, the woman in front of him glanced back at Kingsley and gave him an appreciating smile.

When he finally arrived at the ministry, entering the expanses of the black marbled building, he entered the lift to send him up to the Auror Department. A young woman got into the lift, and stood professionally beside him. Silence ensued as they rode the lift further up, she got off, and finally Shacklebolt arrived at the office, albeit a bit late.

The Aurors in the office were running about, filing papers and signing contracts. A group of Aurors were crowding around the Tracker, the device that tracked all underage magic. Shacklebolt strode down around the group of Aurors, and through the cubicles, getting to his own office, and set down his briefcase. His eyes weighed heavily as he was still sleepy from the night up before. He barely managed to take a seat in the leather chair, when Auror Dawlish came through the door, carrying a stack of papers.

"Shacklebolt, more papers for you from the Minister." Dawlish stared at the tired Senior Auror, and chose not to say anything, opting to shrug and step out of the office, closing the door behind him.

Kingsley sighed and reached for the top paper and quill, _"This document is made as a proposal to formally increase the amount of security at Azkaban through the use of more dementors…"_ Kingsley read the paper as it droned on, obviously not something he should pass. When he had signed up to be an Auror, he did not imagine his life to be spent behind a desk and countless amounts of documents to read, file, and sign.

As he stamped his rejection onto the Azkaban proposal, and as he put it away and reached for the next paper at the top of the stack, Auror Ramsey stumbled in, the door slamming open and shaking the office. The pile of papers shook precariously, and Kingsley pulled out his wand and stabilized it before it fell. He gave Ramsey a pointed look that the new recruit took immediately as a threat and he settled down.

"Auror Shacklebolt, Sir!" He saluted again, "There is something strange about the Tracker, sir."

Shacklebolt resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, "the alarm is a bit faulty, go and find one of the Unspeakables and ask them to come here to fix it. They should know what to do, since it is on of their inventions in the first place."

Ramsey shuffled slightly, "Sir, I don't think that this is something that an Unspeakable can fix."

The Senior Auror tilted his head, curious, and stood up, walking around his desk and out of his office.

He arrived at the Tracker, the group of Auror splitting so a path was formed for him. He looked at the words carefully, and his eyes widened.

_Tracked: Harry James Potter_

_Spell: Wingardium Leviosa_

_Wand: 13 ½ in-Ye—__-Phoenix—eathe—_

_Previous Owner: ?_

The group of Aurors whispered to each other, all staring at the name of the hero of the wizarding world that had been missing for the past nine years.

"The Boy-Who-Lived," a voice was singled out from the crowd. Olivander, still gazing at the name, his demeanor as creepy as Shacklebolt remembered.

The wand maker walked up to the Tracker, looking at the strange malfunction of the words. He cocked his head, and then slowly his eyes widened so much it seemed as though his eyes could pop out of his skull. He turned to Kingsley, and in an ominous voice, he asked, "Does this contraption usually list a 'Previous Owner'?"

"Yes, but it has always been able to identify the person."

Olivander pierced him with a foreboding stare, "I remember that wand, 13 ½ inches, Yew, a phoenix feather core." His eyes were vacant, as if he were remembering something from long ago.

The group was silent.

His voice carried through the department.

"Tom Riddle was the previous owner of that wand."

* * *

><p><strong>How was it? Review review and tell me what you think! :D<strong>

**Petaldancer**


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